


Princely Practice

by StrawhatsAndDelibirds



Category: Dragon Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21817564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawhatsAndDelibirds/pseuds/StrawhatsAndDelibirds
Summary: Sometimes what a warrior does isn't always clear to those with an outside perspective. Or really anyone because you internalise everything and then you hope that one day you die. Such is the way of a warrior.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

Of all the planets he could be stuck on, he was stuck on a primitive planet that couldn’t even manage to perfect space travel. They were a bunch of brainless weaklings that were numbered around the last remaining races to barely make it past their moon. Then barely after managing to get to said moon, they blew it up. 

Though he would give the woman credit. She was the only one on this miserable planet to manage it. It was stolen from crashed vessel from decades ago, so it was by no means an impressive model. Though by these useless weakling’s standards it did deserve a little credit he supposed. 

As if being on this planet wasn’t bad enough, he had injured himself. He was further confined in this damn house. There was one thing he missed from that damn Frieza, were the rejuvenation pods that every member of the Frieza Force had access to. He hated this inactivity. 

He slowly felt as though he was losing his mind. The food was the only saving grace of this hell hole. While he was a Prince, he hated how the humans doted on him. They looked at him with pity, like he was a lesser being. Vegeta was a man of unfathomable strength compared to the rest of them. Strength that deserved to be revered. 

If he stayed stationary much longer, he knew he’d lose his mind. Every moment that passed, was a moment that he wasn’t gaining on Kakarot. The one who took his victory from him. The one who managed defeat Freeza and obtain the power of a Super Saiyan. Everything he had longed to do and obtain in his life. And this nobody from an even less important planet had gone and done it, while Vegeta fell in battle on Namek. It was embarrassing. He was a prince. How could he rule over someone that had the advantage on him. 

He punched the wall. His fist went clean through it. It wasn’t satisfying. It was too clean, too controlled, and too easy. He knew that if he wanted, he could easily level this entire building in seconds. Yet he relied on the humans that lived here. 

To think, the Mighty Prince Vegeta reduced to having to rely on lesser beings. Beings that could easily be crushed under his thumb like insects. It sickened him to know that he even remotely needed them. Yet they were the only ones who could repair his newest training device. 

The fact that Kakarot was also fond of these weaklings for whatever reason was it’s own sickening level of difficulty added to all this. He perhaps sickened him most of all. The one who could best him was the one that lacked any pride and decided to live with these weaklings. He couldn’t even manage a simple eradication mission. The simplest one out of the millions of planets. He somehow managed to beat someone who had spent more time on harder training, while he spent his days playing with these lesser beings that he saw as equals. 

Though perhaps that would be what it took to get him back. Not like he wanted to risk it at this point. The fool somehow managed to gain the upper hand on him. He would not let him best him at any chance at one on one combat. 

He’d punch the wall again, but his rage was interrupted by a familiar sound. A sound that was oddly soothing, with a hint of nostalgia. A memory from before Frieza. No memory before Frieza held such feelings of awe. 

He remembered her sitting at the organ, playing songs better than he had heard any play before or prior. It wasn’t often, but when she was back from mission or between training, she would be here. The days where she’d personally take down anyone who told her not to do it with little more than her tail. A saiyan one could truly aspire to be, as she took orders from no one but her husband. Even then he had heard she gave him an equally hard time. 

“If you learn anything from me, let it be that a strong body without a strong mind behind it is nothing but a pawn for others. You’re a Prince of the proudest race in the universe. You can manage at least that.” She’d tell him as she played. 

There were few out there that rivaled his mother in her day. She was the fiercest warrior that he had ever known. Had she been alive when Freeza had done what he did, he doubted there’d even be anything left of him or his forces. She was truly someone deserving of the title of Saiyan. 

Though the time for reminiscing had passed. Any sign of it would be an invitation to prod at her memory. He would not sully her name and reputation with pointless feelings of postmortem sentimentality. 

He would investigate this sound, however. In the many years since the destruction of Planet Vegeta, he hadn’t heard anything like it. Yet right now the sound he was hearing had an uncanny resemblance. It was impossible for some planet bound people that had no connection to the rest of the galaxy, had it. No one had an instrument like that anywhere outside of his home planet. 

Turning the corner, he saw that blasted woman. Though she wasn’t the worst of them, as she was more often than not carrying offerings. However her needless chatter made her almost entirely unbearable. 

“Oh! You’re awake! I was just doing a little cleaning, I didn’t wake you did I?” She asked, as if he cared about what she had to say. 

“That music. What instrument is it.” His questions were more pressing than her own inconsequential ones. 

“I didn’t take you for a music lover, Vegeta. It’s just some piano music. It’s nice to listen to while I clean.” It was a different name, but the sound was uncannily the same. It would not be the first time an item bore multiple names. He couldn’t rule out that it wasn’t the same instrument.

“I would like to see one.” One of the few saving graces of this woman was how she knew her place. She was excellent at giving him what he requested with little effort. 

“Oh we have an old grand piano around here. Bulma used to play when she was younger. It’s an old Brief’s tradition. Dr. Brief still serenades me with it.” She laughed, as if he were one of her book club friends here to prattle on about nothing to fill his empty days. 

“Then bring me to it.” 

She continued to ramble on about nothing for the entire walk over. The building was huge, and he didn’t want to waste his time, but her rambling was bordering on driving him mad. He was debating leaving her and finding it on his own, when they came to what appeared to be a ballroom with shelves full of books and what he was going to assume was a piano in the middle of it. 

He approached it and pressed a key. It wasn’t quite like the one from his childhood, but he supposed it would do. It had been decades since he last played. Perhaps in the time that he waited for his body to recover adequately enough for the woman to stop pestering him when he tried to train. 

“I could get Bulma’s old piano teacher to come and give you lessons if you’d like. She’s a good friend of the family.” He scoffed. 

“The only thing I need from you Earthlings is to keep my training room in top shape and to continue to have food. I’m perfectly capable of mastering this instrument on my own.” 

“Okay! Well if you ever change your mind, I’d be happy to cover the lessons for you!” She chirped before hopping away. 

His fingers lingered on the keys. It was going to take some practice, but he was certain he’d be able to relearn it just fine.


	2. Chapter 2

Stuffy parties like this were stupid. There were never kids his age, and he was always stuck talking to boring adults who thought they knew everything. He wondered if they knew they were the dumbest people in the room, or if they were trying their hardest not to look like it. Cause it looked a lot like the former.

It didn’t even make sense why they had them. No one in his family liked them, other than his Grandma and Grandpa. They were their own case and nothing seemed to bother them, so Trunks felt like they shouldn’t count. But both him and his dad were put in hot and itchy dress clothes and sent out into the party. 

He could catch some glances of his father, who looked about as pleasant as he normally did. There was an ever decreasing amount of people that tried to make conversation with him. Turns out there were only so many times someone could be met with “no” as a response to starting conversation before they got tired of it and left. 

Trucks knew that his mom was going to have a word with him later about being nicer to these people. He still wasn’t sure why, because these were a lot of boring people looking for investor for their dumb little projects. It was obvious that they were dumb because they were coming to a house full of geniuses and they were showing off bobbles he could’ve made years ago. If they were really smart they’d head to Mr. Satan’s. That was someone who didn’t know a lot about anything and would get excited about dumb little bobbles. 

He also wished he could pig out with all the little snacks that were being carried around the room. Too many dumb grownups in suits kept trying to make nowhere conversations that always ended with “so can you get your mommy to back my invention you handsome little man?” It was rude to talk to people with your mouthful, but it felt like a really weird rule to enforce seeing as his dad was doing it right now. 

He was already starting to think that maybe his dad had the right idea in all this. Maybe sometimes the wrath of his mom was better than the mind numbing and predictable conversations he’s been having all evening were. But his mom could beat his dad in a fight, so there was that. 

His debate was cut short as he saw his mom crossing the room over towards him. Uh oh, she couldn’t hear his thoughts could she? It felt unfair to get a preemptive yelling at before he even did anything. 

As she got closer, he could tell that she wasn’t upset. That was good, cause that meant he wasn’t in trouble. Maybe this was her telling him that he had done such a good job at the boring party, that he could leave. 

“Trunks, could you play us a song on the piano?” His mom asked, shattering any hopes of getting out of the party. 

“But mom, do I have to?” He whined. He had a lot of people bothering him as it was. This was only going to make everyone want to stop and talk to him and tell him how good he played and also if he could put in a good word. He couldn’t even tell them to buzz off. 

“Trunks, it’s tradition to at least play at one of these.” Why was it his problem that she had to do this fifty years ago when she was a kid? 

“Then I’ll play at the next one.” And then he’ll remember to fake being sick that day so he wouldn’t have to come. His mom groaned in annoyance as the assorted old stuffy ladies murmured among themselves on how he was shy. He wasn’t shy, he was just too smart to throw himself to the dogs like this. 

“Vegeta.” She looked behind him to his father, standing not to far away. He walking over their little group. 

And then he walked passed it, and kept walking. His mom followed after, giving him an earful as he walked off. His father had given him the perfect opportunity to escape. He definitely owed him on for this. 

Before he could get out of the room in hopes he could escape somewhere, he heard piano music. It was like listening to someone who was trained by masters for years and did it as a career. There was no way what he was thinking was happening, was happening. 

But as he turned around, he saw his dad at the piano bench. Everyone else had hushed up, and now all that could be heard was his dad’s somehow beautiful and powerful music. Since when did his dad ever play piano? That seemed so lame and wimpy for something for his dad to do. 

Soon enough, the song had ended. The whole ballroom erupted in applause as his father got up from the bench and made his way over to him. Trunks was still so shocked from the whole ordeal that he hadn’t even moved. He could distantly hear his mom yelling about how she wanted to know how he kept this a secret from her for so long, which made him feel a little better about this. At least he wasn’t the only one that didn’t know. 

“Boy, if I must play a song, then so shall you.” It sounded like an order, but it felt a lot like his dad had taken a bullet for him. Now he was going to be surrounded by the whole party. No one was going to even hear him play they were going to be too busy with him. 

He was going to have to make this up to him later somehow. He didn’t exactly know how, but he was going to.

“Yes sir!”


End file.
